Away with the Faeries
by Daemon faerie queen
Summary: After disrupting Giles in the Magic Box, Spike makes an unintended wish for the worse... BuffyLabyrinth crossover. Set just before Restless in Season 4. On hiatus indefinitely. Old story.
1. Idle minds

( Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of Mr Whedon's characters. I do not own Labyrinth or its inhabitants. I DO own me and I hope what I've slapped together for fun makes everyone else happy too! Enjoy!)  
  
The door creaked slowly open, the shop bell muffled with a cold hand. Soft footfalls stalked the shadows, creeping cautiously towards the only illuminated place in the room - a round, wooden table stacked with papers where an unsuspecting figure sat, poring over a heavy book. Darkness concealed the shape prowling amongst the cluttered shelves, closing in on its victim, bright yellow eyes glowing like unnatural fires. Lightly dusted shelves cluttered with curious paraphernalia cowered into the deeper recesses of the store as though they lived and shirked the presence that had entered. Two ashen arms emerged from the black and clawing fingers reached to grasp the human's neck with all the intent of snapping it in two.  
  
"Go home, Spike," sighed the bespectacled man, not bothering to observe the intruder's surprise.  
  
The would-be attacker stalked out of the gloom and slumped into one of the chairs nearby, the light picking out the furrows in his horribly contorted and sulking face.  
  
"You always have to spoil it, don't you?" he grumbled in California-tainted Cockney. "Every tiny bleeding thing I do around here to amuse myself-."  
  
"You could be useful for a change. I'm sure you know how to read. There's plenty you could be doing to help the rest of us, but I doubt that a single atom in your body would have enough decency to try."  
  
Spike sneered.  
  
"I'm _bored_, old man!"  
  
"Then for goodness sake stop blathering on about it and go do something," the shopkeeper snapped, removing his glasses and finally looking up from his book. "And before you call me 'old man' again, you might want to think. Your considerable count of years is enough to be twice my grandfather."  
  
The sallow-faced vampire swung his booted feet onto the table and folded his arms behind his head. The molten tint to his irises faded and his monstrous visage smoothed out into the complexion of a youthful man.  
  
"Yeah, but I'm a hell of a lot more handsome for my age," he gloated. "Anyway, where've those little demon-slaying junkies of yours buggered off to? Aren't you supposed to be doing mentor stuff, teaching 'em how not to get their lungs ripped out? That's what you Watcher's do, innit?"  
  
The Watcher, or Rupert Giles as he was more familiarly known, had returned his attention to the book he was engrossed in. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in a weary manner.  
  
"Spike, it's three a.m., they're all dreaming about university finals or whatever else is fluttering about in their heads at this time." He wasn't about to correct the fact that he was actually an 'ex-Watcher', dismissed by a council that issued orders to their vampire slayers - women destined to destroy evil from the moment they are chosen. Regardless of whether Spike knew this position or not, he was not in the mood for bickering about it.  
  
The vampire considered making some cynical reply but slid his feet back to the floor and leaned across the spread of books to see what Giles found so intriguing. Without a thought as to the Watcher's privacy, he lifted the tome to inspect the cover.  
  
He gave an unintelligible grunt.  
  
"Well?" asked Giles.  
  
"Well what?"  
  
"I assume your guttural noise meant something to do with this text?"  
  
"No."  
  
The Watcher stared at the vampire for some time who eventually sank back into his chair with his hands clasped, rolling his eyes.  
  
"All right," Spike said, sniffing with disinterest. "Some kids' story. Been around for years. Heard people talk about some ponceing old faerie king that snatches babes from cradles and some bird running through a maze to get 'er brother back. Total bollocks if you ask me."  
  
"Quite," said Giles after some time. "If it's that much of a bore to you, then you won't mind me telling you to go away and let me read in peace."  
  
The vampire sighed and stood up as though needing to stretch his legs. He strutted around the shop for a few moments, browsing the shelves; his hands plunged deep into the pockets of his long, black leather coat. Then, regardless of the large printed sign reading 'Do Not Lean On The Counter' that was pasted on the glass, he seated himself next to the till.  
  
"How can you stand it in here?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be out fighting my friends or bringing up some family? Whatever happened to that black damsel that used to hang about your pretty little homestead?"  
  
This sparked something in the listener. Giles slammed the book closed and proceeded to glare menacingly.  
  
"Remind me to take you for a brisk walk in the sunlight tomorrow morning," he growled.  
  
Spike sucked his teeth smugly, springing lightly from the counter.  
  
"See, this is what I love about you people. You're all so damn nervy." He slinked closer to the Watcher. "One teensy little poke and you're wailing into your bed-pillows. Bloody lark is what it is."   
  
Giles inhaled slowly, ignoring the inane grin pasted on the vampire's face, and began to search again for his place in his book. After a few moments of flicking pages, his shoulders ceased to be tense and he huddled over the text.  
  
Eyes flitting from tome to human, Spike became increasingly jaded at the silence. Unable to stand it, he plucked the book from under the Watcher's nose and darted to the back of the shop. He chuckled like a child and scrambled up the ladder to the forbidden section of the Magic Box.  
  
"Spike, I am warning you!" Giles bellowed from below. "As Buffy's Watcher I am perfectly capable of having you eradicated, with or without her permission."  
  
The vampire's head peered over the top of the ladder. He smirked at the mention of the Slayer's name. She wouldn't kill him, he sniggered to himself, she was too kind, no, _complicated_ for that - too humane to destroy a creature that could not harm her. Not since those old friends of her late soldier-boy planted this infernal chip in my brain, sending electrical impulses of unadulterated pain surging through my head whenever I attempt to snack on someone...  
  
Giles had started to ascend the ladder, but crashed back down to the shop floor having been bombarded with a series of heavy spell books. Spike's voice resonated from the balcony.  
  
"Now let's see..." he paused to browse where the angry Watcher had read up to. "Bloody hell. Is there anywhere you _haven't _spilled coffee on? Ah, right, here we go." The vampire beamed and put on a booming show speech. "'Goblin King, wherever you may be, take this child of mine far away from me!'"   
  
He laughed.  
  
"She really had it in for her brother, didn't she?"  
  
"Give me that book, right now!" Giles demanded, rubbing his head.  
  
"Ooh that's a toughie," replied Spike. Then, after a few moments of thought, "No."  
  
The Watcher seethed behind his steaming-up glasses.  
  
"Now you listen to me! If you think that you can just-."  
  
The vampire leapt to his feet, the book balanced open in one hand. His eyes were closed and his free palm outward as though he were about to read an incantation. So what if it's just a story, Spike thought, the look on his face is entertainment enough.  
  
"Do you know what I wish?" he asked, his eyes brimming with power as Giles raced again to the ladder. "I wish that prancing, namby-pamby, stinking Goblin King would come and whisk your arse out of Sunnydale, right now!"  
  
Silence fell once more. The vampire lowered his arms and sighed, tossing the book behind him. Its moment of interest had passed.   
  
"All right, grumpy," he said, peering down to the ground floor. "You can have your sodding boo-."   
  
The Watcher was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"-k."  
  
Spike placed two hands on the balcony rail and leaned to scour the shop, his scarred brow furrowing in confusion.  
  
"Right, funny. Ha, ha, Giles. Joke's on old Spike. You got me! I'll play nice, just don't go jumpin' out and staking anybody."  
  
The sound of breaking glass caught the vampire's attention. His face contorted instinctively; the eyes flashing yellow; fangs protruding behind his upper lip. He growled softly, staring at the shop below, waiting for something to cross the floor.  
  
Chattering sounds, fluttering, shuffling, filled his senses and painted the walls with dancing shadows. It was impossible to hone in on any one noise, for where it had been a second before was lost amongst the fray. Tiny, possibly clawed feet skittered in hearing distance; something that was no more than two feet tall vanished with a 'whoop' behind the cash register; items tumbled off shelves or rocked dangerously.  
  
Spike was too occupied with the clamour to notice the creature behind him; keen, discordant eyes, vicious curved beak. Only at the moment that it rose to take the form of a man did he turn his head. He was greeted with a glancing blow across his face that cleared him from the balcony.   
  
The vampire crashed through the table, sending papers and books spilling amongst the splintered debris. He looked up, dazed, from the Magic Box floor at the imposing figure that stood shrouded in darkness.   
  
A black cloak that glittered as stardust seemed to pour obediently around the body of its master, pinned at a silken throat that hosted a glimmering pendant. White-blonde hair struck out wildly, creating, along with sweeping blue tints to the eyebrows, the impression of an owl. A company of ugly little creatures gathered around a pair of leather boots and joined the mysterious intruder in watching their summoner.  
  
"Well," said Spike. "This was unexpected." 


	2. Spike's decision

(Hey guys, here's the next part. I'm trying to set this out a little like a Buffy episode so the chapters are not going to be equal in length. Some might even be appallingly short, so apologies in advance for that...it's for plot purposes!)

The eerie stranger stared at the human-inhabiting demon as it picked itself up from the pieces of broken table, the folds of his cloak quivering in an unnatural breeze. He glanced briefly at the ladder ahead of him and then at his impish followers before he vanished and materialised once more on the ground level of the shop.  
  
Spike straightened and stepped back, allowing his monster face to fade as he assessed the creature, his skin prickling at the sense of the magic filling the room about its presence.  
  
"All right mate, top marks for entrance," he glowered, unable to suppress a shudder in the wake of unusual power. "What are you?"  
  
The man gave a cold smile and stepped forward dauntingly.  
  
"_I_," he spoke in crisp English, "am apparently 'prancing', 'namby-pamby' and 'stinking'. Though you are fortunate in knowing the one truth of your statement. I _am _the King of Goblins. And _you_ must be William, a poet, going by another name due to your failures or..." He smirked and looked the vampire up and down. "Changes."  
  
Spike sneered.  
  
"That's all I need. Another sodding Brit in Sunnyhell. What's wrong with the old homeland? Sinking with the weight of all the toffs?" Not a flicker of response came from the Goblin King. "You're not human then?"  
  
"No."  
  
Spike made as though to consider this point, but only for display.  
  
"Good." He sniffed authoritatively. "Then I can hit you."  
  
He launched himself at his opponent but gaped in surprise as he fell through what could only be described as an apparition and sprawled painfully across the floor. He rolled onto his back and kicked himself upright, standing defensively and bewildered, watching as the man shimmered back into corporeal form.  
  
"You're a bleeding ghost!" he cried, exasperated.  
  
Jareth laughed.  
  
"No, I'm just not one for primitive confrontations, William."  
  
The vampire bristled with anger.  
  
"I am not your enemy, Spike," the Goblin King continued calmly, twin streaks of blue glistening in his blond hair. "I'm not here to harm you."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"What do _I _want? _I_ am beyond question. It is _you_ who wanted something and it has been taken care of. I believe we are on equal terms, so long as you don't want to go into the small print."  
  
Spike relaxed and screwed up his face with distaste.  
  
"I was wrong. You don't speak English. I can understand bugger all the words spilling out of that hole." He paused. " No, wait, maybe it's just because I don't care. Where's the librarian...? Not that I care about him either..."  
  
"Who? Rupert?"  
  
Jareth's gloved hand whipped out and held aloft a shining crystal globe in which an image was flickering into view. Spike peered cautiously at the unconscious figure of Giles; lying upon sandy stone inside an unkempt throne room of sorts, shrieking goblins bouncing around, tossing rags, kicking chickens, poking the Watcher with glee.  
  
"He's perfectly safe," assured the Goblin King. "And in return for him, I'll give you anything you want." At these words, the orb at his fingertips glowed and replaced the vision of Giles with an ominous mist.  
  
Spike folded his arms across his chest.  
  
"Oh _please_. I'm not a complete bint. Do you honestly think I'd fall for that old charmer? I _met_ the guy who invented that phrase. Hell, I probably drank him."  
  
"Somehow I doubt that," Jareth replied with a trace of ever-so-sweet venom.  
  
The vampire was on the verge of asking which part of that sentence had been doubted; searching for insult, yet his attention reverted to the swirling globe. His eyes glittered cruelly. He looked back at the sincere blue and brown gaze of the Goblin King.  
  
"_Anything_ I want?"


	3. The wants of a vampire

A warm glint of morning light sprang from the town's bell-tower and splayed out over the top of the Sun Cinema. Willow, Xander and Tara hurried along the main street towards the Magic Box, sharing a packet of Titos between them.  
"So remind me," said Xander with a hint of scorn. "Exactly why are we listening to the ex-killing vampire's freaky phone call and missing much-needed sleep and video fests?"  
"He said it was important. Something about a break-in at the shop and Giles is missing."  
"And we're believing him, why? I mean, shouldn't we get Riley or the Buffster to come with? This whole thing stinks of trap."  
Willow sighed and brushed back a strand of her gorgeous red hair.  
"You know Riley needs his rest after the whole Adam thing. We can't expect him to jump to attention every time some little thing goes kooky. I'm sure we'll be fine, really."  
Her childhood friend noted her nervousness.  
"And Buffy?"  
Willow didn't answer.  
"Will?"  
"Okay, okay, she wasn't home all night. I figured maybe she stayed over at Riley's-."  
"And you didn't call to find out?"  
"Well, no. As a matter of fact I, I didn't!" Willow blurted defensively. "You know what those two are like with their sexy-ness. I didn't want to disturb them. Besides, even if we do get in some silly trap thingy, Buffy'll get us out like, _that_." She clicked her fingers.  
"Um, guys..."  
Tara had finally found cause to enter the conversation. The companions had arrived outside the Magic Box and she was pointing at the door.  
"Spike said there was a break-in, but wouldn't there be a broken window or some kind of dent in the door?"  
"Well, less wood-shop work for me to do!" Xander exclaimed cheerfully.  
Willow approached the door and turned the handle, letting it swing open with a tinkle of the bell. She stepped inside, the others following closely. No sooner had they reached the top of the few stairs, she cried out in alarm.  
"Buffy!"  
"Mmf!"  
The Slayer was bound to a chair in the middle of the room, a piece of cloth stuffed in her mouth. Her friends rushed to her, taking no heed of her head shaking frantically from side to side. No sooner had they reached her, a wall of enchanted fire circled them and the door of the Magic Box slammed shut.  
"I _knew_ it was a trap!"  
Xander's voice was drowned out by the vampire's cruel chuckle. They spun to see Spike slink down the steps, a book in hand.  
"Bloody useful place you've got here. Don't know why I never caused this much havoc earlier." He tossed the tome over his shoulder.  
"Maybe because the Slayer would have beat you into undead jell-o?" Xander snapped.  
The girl in question called for attention again.  
"Mmmmf!"  
"Ooh, sorry!" Willow winced, immediately tending to the gag. "Are you okay? What happened?"  
Buffy scowled at Spike through the flames.  
"I don't know. One minute I was patrolling, I went into one of the crypts, and then I was here in the Magic Box. With _Spike_." She spat his name in disgust.  
"Oh the look on your face was just priceless," the vampire smirked.  
"Right," said Xander, "but that still doesn't explain the situation. Did he invite you to sit down on a chair and tie you up with rope? 'Cause that's just making up bad images..."  
Willow frowned.  
"Yeah, what's going on with that? Spike can't use violence because of-."  
"My chip?"  
The Slayer and her friends stared at him. The vampire grinned maliciously.  
"That pesky old thing? Well, I think our relationship took a bit of a tumble. Decided to part ways, see other chips if you know what I mean?"  
"You mean you're-."  
"Free as a plump, juicy nightingale, Red. Free to hunt and kill and maim and knock the blinking lights out of any walking blood smoothie who passes my way."  
Xander finished untying Buffy's ropes and squinted through the sizzling barrier.  
"I still don't get it. Fine, you're the _Big Bad_ again, but that still doesn't make you a match for the Slayer!"  
"Xander -," Buffy began.  
"Buff, I'm trying to have a rant here. As I was saying, there is no way a rusty old vamp like you can take the Slayer off guard at full strength"  
"Xander, I'm not the Slayer."  
"Exactly, she's not the -." Xander paused in mid-flow. "What?"  
Willow laid a hand upon Buffy's shoulder.  
"You're tired. You're not thinking straight. Of course you're the Slayer. You go around poking vampires with sticks, that's what you do," she said meekly.  
Buffy hung her head, tears stinging her eyes.  
"I've lost my power. It...it just went. I'm just a normal girl, a normal, scared girl..."  
Spike sniggered.  
"Isn't it wonderful? She's so pathetic! And soon she'll be all alone." His face twisted into its monster self. "When she's seen me pick off her friends one by one."  
He advanced on them but stopped short, feeling something prod him in the small of his back. Willow was standing up straight, her eyes unblinking, focused on his heart.  
"What's going on, Will?" Xander asked.  
Tara tugged at his sleeve and whispered to him. "Pencil."  
His eyes widened. "You mean the one that was all the way over there on the counter?"  
She nodded. Xander brightened.  
"Yay Wicca."  
Spike glared at the challenging witch.  
"What you gonna do, Red? Draw on me?"  
"Actually I was thinking more along the lines of letting it rip through your skin and burrow into your main artery." Willow's pupils gleamed purple. "Take the shield down. Now."  
The vampire resigned and reverted to mortal form again. He trudged over to the sorry-looking book he had dropped, the item of stationery following him, and flicked through the pages. He gave the witch a sulky glance and then spoke a few harsh syllables.  
"Look'rah akhtay."  
The circle of fire vanished.  
"Way to go, Will. Now fill him full of lead!"  
Buffy and Tara frowned at Xander's outburst.  
"Oh come on, you were all thinking the same thing."  
Spike had thrown himself to the floor to escape the writing implement but found himself pinned, panting with fear as the pencil hovered over his chest like a wasp.  
"He hasn't told us how to fix Buffy," Willow growled. "What did you do?"  
"_Me_? I didn't do anything!"  
The tip of the pencil stabbed him sharply, breaking a millimetre of his skin.  
"Oww! It was the book!"  
"What book?"  
Buffy cut in, "I think he means this stupid story he kept yammering on about. King of Goblins, blah blah blah. Meant to have taken his chip out for him. What was it called? Labiarinth?"  
"I think she means Labyrinth," said Tara, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.  
"That's what I said."  
Willow broke her trance to comment. "Ooh, isn't that that film with David Bowie?"  
"The one where he has really tight pants?"  
Everyone, including Spike, stared at Xander.  
"This is one of those moments where I wish I didn't exist..."  
"Anyway," Buffy continued. "He made up some lame lie about this goblin guy whisking Giles off to his own dimension. Hell, if I believed that were true, I wish he'd come and take Spike away too. That'd solve a world of problems."  
The vampire rose to his feet, the pencil having dropped to the floor. Instead of rushing the humans though, he backed off with his palms waving.  
"I wouldn't go saying those sorts of things, children. You don't know who might be listening."  
Xander ignored him and added, "Yeah. Right now would be a bonus."  
"Oh, bollocks." 


	4. The Catch

The four friends stood staring at the space where the vampire had been standing seconds before.  
"You poofed him!" Willow cried.  
"Did not!" Buffy said indignantly.  
"Did too!"  
"You were the one with the floaty pencil thingy. You could have slipped. You could have done the poofing!"  
"Oh no, you said the thing that made him poof. You all saw it, she said the poofing thing and he just went poof! It was total poofage by Buffy there."  
"It was Xander! He said something and then it happened!"  
"Oh sure, everybody blame _me._"  
Tara explored the area where Spike had vanished, brushing her finger across the floor.  
"There's no ash. I don't think he's dead wherever he is."  
Buffy pouted.  
"But I wanted to poof him."  
Xander grinned at her.  
"Feeling more like your old self, Buff?"  
"Yeah, I think it must have had something to do with Spike when he poof- I mean disappeared. Any idea why?"  
"That's easy," he answered. "See, in the movie, the girl made a wish that her baby brother be taken away by the goblins-."  
"Oh that's sisterly love..." Buffy interrupted.  
"She didn't mean it. She didn't know it would happen. Anyway, I think Spike must have wished Giles away so the goblins took him. And now we wished him away, it probably forfeited the gifts he got in return for Giles."  
"Okay...so where's all the goblins? Don't we get presents for getting rid of Spike?"  
"Of course," said a voice from the balcony.  
"G-goblin King," Tara stammered as they all turned.  
Jareth skimmed the air above the rungs of the ladder and touched down on the shop floor, his star-spangled cloak shimmering from neck to ankle. His eyes and jagged teeth glinted in his handsome face.  
"Hey, his pants aren't tight enough -ow!"  
Xander rubbed his ribs where they had connected with Willow's elbow.  
"I am feeling generous as always," purred the Goblin King, pretending not to have heard him. "What is it you ask of me?"  
"We want Giles back."  
Jareth's gaze met with the Slayer's and caused her to shiver.  
"Not that generous. I am afraid it is not in my power to give back a person wished away by another. You may only ask for who you told me to take away, and even then I do not give them up easily."  
"But I don't want Spike. You can keep him. What about a trade?"  
The Goblin King shook his head.  
"You're lying!" cried Xander. "It's so obvious you can hand over Giles whenever you feel like it! Beat it out of him Buff!"  
Jareth laughed but it was cut short as the Slayer slammed her heel into his chest. He flew backwards across the shop and to their surprise, evaporated through the wall. Just as suddenly, he materialised near the front door.  
"That's not fair!" Xander checked himself as the Goblin King raised an eyebrow. "Why do I always say the predictable thing?"  
"Two of you asked that the vampire be taken away," Jareth said as he approached them. "Those two are free to run my Labyrinth. I give no more, no less time for two people but I _will_ make it harder. Almost anything goes in my land. You have thirteen hours in which to solve it, as Alexander here already knows."  
"Will you turn Giles into a goblin?" Willow winced.  
Jareth smiled.  
"Not to worry, little witch. I can find better uses for a librarian."  
He gestured to the balcony, beyond which a swirling portal to the Underground opened where the forbidden spell books should have been. He swished his black cloak with a flourish, engulfing himself in a ream of shadow, his very form twisting elegantly out of shape. The blackness gave way to a shining white of striking feathers and a small owl shot through the dimension gateway.  
Buffy scaled the ladder without a second thought and dove after the Goblin King. The others, however, were stood stupefied.  
"Xander, you have to go after her!" cried Willow.  
"What use am I? I haven't seen the movie in years. I can't solve puzzles!"  
"You still helped with the wishing. You have to go through." The witch bit her lip in thought then patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Tara and I will try to find something to help but in the meanwhile, go!"  
She shoved him towards the ladder, with her Insistent Face glowering at him should he look back, and watched as he stepped into the other world. The rippling portal closed behind him with a _gloop_.  
Tara and Willow stared at the return of the forbidden section of books and promptly scrambled up the same rungs. Having little clues as to what danger their friends were to face, they set about searching the dark arts for aid. 

"Oi! Hands off the leathers!"  
Spike snatched up the offending goblin and booted it across the room. A crowd of on-lookers squealed and retreated to the many ledges and hidey-holes that filled the walls around the throne. The floor was strewn with rags and children's toys - a reminder of the Labyrinth's usual guests. A crooked clock with thirteen hours instead of twelve ticked idly near a window.  
"Bit behind on the times," the vampire spoke to the room. "You should go digital. Get yourself a whole extra eleven hours."  
A stifled groan drew his attention to the dip in the middle of the room where something was lying covered in a heap of ragged blankets. The scent of helpless human lured him nearer, his face contorting from hunger. Spike threw himself onto his prey and bit down into the soft flesh of its neck. A volcanic scream escaped his lips as the white-hot pain of electricity engulfed his skull. The vampire keeled over on the stone slabs, writhing and roaring obscenities.  
The would-be victim sat up and squinted at his attacker, barely noticing the sting of the teeth-marks at his throat. He wrung his fist in the direction of the blurred Spike and berated him in slurred speech.  
"Bug'roff! Co'founded pests after my scotch. 'S mine, an' you can't have it!"  
Spike rolled his pounding head to look at the drunkard.  
"Giles? For hell's sake, you've been here a night and you're as pissed as Bridget. No wonder you got fired."  
The ex-Watcher raised his other arm and brandished the bottle of liquor. "S-Spike! You sen' me here! I'll bloody kill you!"  
He swung the bottle at the vampire, intending to smash it on his head, but only managed to fall on his adversary and begin a childish scrabble. Spike fended him off with one hand and relieved him of the alcohol with the other.  
"I need this more than you, mate."


End file.
